


Release

by Arubi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Addiction, After care, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BAMF Stiles, Bondage, Dark, Dom/sub, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Rich!Stiles, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arubi/pseuds/Arubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He took off his jacket and placed it on the hook by the entrance, the smell of wood, alcohol, and sex filled his senses immediately as always. He sat on a nearby chair and waited until it was his turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I actually wrote this. If it is liked I may continue it. *hides in a corner.*

_**Release** _

__

* * *

Derek goes to Stiles at least once a week.

When his family died in the fire, he tried drugs. They didn't work on him. They couldn't dull his senses or affect his brain in anyway; his clarity was as pitch perfect as ever, his grief, guilt and anger didn't fade one bit. It drove him crazy for a while. Laura left by the time he was a legal adult, when they talked Laura barely ever looked at him, but Derek didn't blame her; he could barely look at himself.

Going to Stiles, however, was the one thing which managed to shut down that part of his brain which controlled his thoughts and ignited the other part which controlled his instincts.

It was as addictive as a drug. An all consumer thing which seduced him into submission.

He closed the door behind him and exhaled. The house was old fashioned, a Medieval Victorian style and looked like it could belong to a baron. The living room was a small hall; the walls were covered in wood and there was old oak furniture on all sides ranging from chiffoniers to cabinets holding various expensive liquor and other antiques and decorations. There was a large red curtain keeping the sunlight out from the large window on one side. There were three small sofas in the middle of the living room and a fireplace opposite of them; Stiles was standing in the space between the fire place and the sofas.

He took off his jacket and placed it on the hook by the entrance, the smell of wood, alcohol, and sex filled his senses immediately as always. He sat on a nearby chair and waited until it was his turn.

Jackson was on his hands and knees, completely and utterly bare apart from a cold metal collar straining tight against his neck, two equally cold metal rings, one around his cock and the other around his balls, and a nine inch dildo plugged deep inside of him. He had been in this state for over two hours, the entire time on the edge of his orgasm, unable to have any kind of release. There were stains of candle wax on his back and some of it was dripping around the plug, making its way between his ass cheeks and down to his balls, a lot of it was already cooled off on the floor. Derek could only imagine for how long Stiles tortured Jackson, he knew how slow Stiles liked to take it, leaking drop by drop of wax from the red candles for long minutes onto his back and between his ass cheeks.

His eyes flicked to the red candles for a second, half-melted on the cabinet on the right – there were identical sets of candles placed on the cabinets around the room, lighting the room dimly.

Stiles was fucking into Jackson’s gagged, open mouth with wild abandon, his pace deep and relentless. Derek could hear Jackson choking and gagging from where he was sitting, his muffled moans the only sound in the room besides Stiles' own.

"Derek, could you take his rings off?" It wasn't the first time Derek was asked something like this from Stiles, he was a regular after all.

He moved in between the sofas and leaned in from behind Jackson, taking his rings off carefully. The wooden floor was brutally cold, but he supposed Jackson's mind was busy on feeling other more significant... sensations.

"Jerk him off." Stiles' command came out in between moans, he was close.

It took Derek only a couple of strokes before Jackson was violently shooting his load across the floor, his entire body shivering in spasms. Stiles came after a few moments, unloading himself into Jackson's mouth. Stiles gestured Derek to sit on the sofa while he took out the dildo from Jackson's ass slowly, then removed his collar and moved back to the kitchen.

Jackson laid there panting for a while, slowly regaining enough awareness to start dressing himself, his knees and left arm were still subtly shivering.

 "Have fun." Jackson said just before he left, same arrogant grin as always spread across his face. If only anyone knew that one of the richest bastards in town liked his body being used as a fuck hole for a hobby.

Derek couldn't really judge him though.

“Hello Derek” Stiles leaned on the entrance to the living room from the kitchen, smirking seductively. He walked towards Derek, still sitting on the sofa, and straddled him, locking their lips in messy wet kisses and licking.

Derek gave Stiles complete access to him; he loved surrendering his body like this. Letting the other man control and use him like this. It made him feel needed.

“Follow me” Stiles walked off and down the stairs leading to the basement, Derek followed him.

Stiles’ basement was more of a porn studio rather than the conventional basement with rats and spider webs any normal person would think of.  It had a large bondage bed in the middle and two other metallic operating tables.

There was a huge cupboard where Stiles kept all his equipment, and a small table covered by a white sheet and a bowl filled with stilled water.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles liked red candles, and playing with his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, indeed, still a little flushed about posting these kinds of fics.

 

Derek’s legs were spread apart at an almost painful angle, difficult to sustain for long periods if he wasn’t bound like this. His feet and arms were each chained to a spreader bar, forcing him on all fours with his body bare and completely open.

Stiles smirked as Derek’s muscle ring clenched, wet with need. He teased it with his fingers, light brushing touches just to make Derek flutter and flush at how exposed he was, his ass bare and spread and popping out for anyone’s enjoyment. Stiles messaged Derek’s inner thighs, he could feel how tense they are, the hard muscles tightening and writhing from being in such a position for so long. He stood up from his kneeling position and stared down at the beauty under him, body trembling and skin glistening from the cold oil he applied to it previously. Stiles ran down a finger along the curve of Derek’s spine, he loved Derek – he was his favorite – all hard muscles, rough edges and everything about him was simply delicious, the now cooled wax smeared off as his fingers ran through it.

“Breathe Derek.” This wasn’t their first time, by now Derek learned all the steps he needed to get through each and every phase, that didn’t however mean Stiles stopped taking precautions. Derek was blind folded and his mouth was held open by a plug strapped around his head – he was completely vulnerable, he couldn’t do anything; his legs were bound, his arms were chained, he couldn’t see anything, his head was bent down and his mouth was gagged – every time he tried to twitch or move he found his efforts completely futile.

Derek mouthed at the plug, tried to adjust his tongue better for comfort, to be able to breathe through the solid mass inside his mouth – Stiles was being merciless this time.   
  
“Gnrrhh” He groaned involuntarily as he felt hot wax dripping off onto his back once again, the droplets were coming in small yet relentless volumes, one after the other. Its heat was almost unbearable, it would have scarred his skin was it not for the unique oils Stiles used. Derek writhed and twitched and breathed in sharp bold intakes, trying to ground the pain, yet it was useless; he had to take all of this, and he had no other choice.

He nearly choked when he felt the red liquid slithering between his ass cheeks, making its way around his hole – only stopped from burning his insides by Stiles’ fingers – and down his balls, dripping off onto the floor in wet flops which drove him insane. He could hear Stiles’ pleased smirk – he must be enjoying the view – he thought happily, and then felt used when he heard the clicking of the camera as Stiles took pictures of him like this. It wasn’t the first time either, he had consented it himself, yet every time he felt something inside him tighten with hurt, as if discovering just how objectified he was all over again.

Then he felt Stiles on top of him, body pressed onto his own, hot and messy as the smooth pale flesh clicked to his reddened back. He could feel Stiles’ hot breathing, hear it’s roughness against his ears.

“Shh, you’re amazing Derek. You’re doing great,” He felt Stiles’ hands slithering around his belly, touching his abs and he let out an embarrassing noise when he felt two fingers around his left nipple.

“Just let me take care of you. Make a noise if you want me to take off your gag.” A pause.

“Good. Because I’m nowhere near finished with you.” Stiles whispered hotly in his ears, then lapped at it with his tongue.

“Is the wax hurting you? Make a noise if it is.” Another brief silence.

“I’m still going to get it off your back though. I hate making you frightened.” Derek wanted to protest – he wasn’t – maybe he was a little scared, a little too overwhelmed by the liquid running down so close to his muscle ring, every moment his insides gritted in apprehension to what might happen if it got in; if Stiles removed his firm fingers away from his hole, and his sac – even if oiled generously – was starting to get rapidly hot.

He felt a sudden coolness as Stiles used a white foamy cream and applied it to his balls, playing with them a little and then applying the same cream onto his back, finally removing his two fingers from above his hole. The cream felt cold – soothing and refreshingly cool – and after a couple of moments he felt the previous two fingers penetrating him from behind, long and thin and lubed.

Derek gasped against the sudden entrance, a little shocked, but quickly got used to it. Apart from the straining collar around his neck he was completely bare, and all the while his cock hanged hot and heavy between his legs, a metal ring holding it swollen and red and irritated for now, almost an hour. Stiles wrapped his cool fingers around his shaft, stroking the flesh up and down precariously.

“God Derek, fuck, you’re so huge and perfect. Your cock is my favorite thing about you – well of the many – but I digress, it’s always so hard and excited for me, a 9 inch tool just for me to play with” His voice turned low, and almost dangerous. “Like you are.”

“You know why people prefer me to others? Not because of my tricks, or my obsession with candles,” It was a running theme with Stiles, and the two often joked about it. Derek would have smiled if his mouth wasn’t spread open and his jaw wasn’t aching from being filled by four inches of plastic for twenty minutes. “It’s how I make them cum, how when they cum they spasm and lose consciousness, it’s unheard of. I take pride in that particular talent of mine.” Stiles applied pressure to the underside of his cock, just adjacent to the bobbing vein his other finger was massaging, and Derek’s breathing halted as jarring waves of pleasures travelled up and down his nervous system.

“Arghh.” He moaned, panted and groaned desperately around the plug in ecstasy, there was spit coming out of his mouth and saliva dripping off his jaw but he couldn’t care less, he was too far gone, he grit his teeth hard against the plug, trying to survive the white backlash Stiles was causing him. A few second passed, Stiles was once again pressed down onto him, a set of fingers around his cock – now applying hard long strokes – and the other set with three fingers scissoring and his hole.

His muscles were clenching obscenely, abs jutting in and own and veins stirring as he panted and held through Stiles’ playing. Stiles’ best talent were indeed his fingers, the rather unbelievable way he managed to find the exact pressure points in the body to send his brain crashing for long seconds. Derek was always confused as to how one could know such methods, and then learned, with horrifying awareness that Stiles was not as harmless as he seemed (when a client decided to hit him, and ended up paralyzed from the neck down for several hours, while Stiles sucked on Derek’s cock like nothing had happened.) – He did apologize for disruption afterwards though, as if Derek was the one who was attacked.

Stiles then stopped abruptly, pulling his fingers out and letting off Derek’s cock, causing it to bob up and down against his stomach and dampen his abs with pre-cum. Stiles walked in-front of him and removed his blind-fold and plug carefully, with familiar gentleness, and then crouched down to level himself with Derek’s head, tipping it up with his hand under Derek’s chin. He got a tissue and a wet cloth, using them to clean Derek’s face from sweat and saliva.

“Thanks.” He breathed.

“Okay, I want to bind you on the metal table and ride you until you cum.” The question was there, even if it was a statement. Derek nodded.

“Yeah, okay.” It was the simplicity Derek liked most, with Stiles, the simplicity of how he wasn’t required to talk or to act in any way. The simplicity of how Stiles knew exactly when Derek has had enough, even when he himself was unaware of it. Stiles moved to unbind his chains carefully, and then brought a large thick cloth underneath him before untangling him completely, quickly removing the spreader bars and allowing Derek to collapse onto the soft fabric.

Derek breathed for a little while, delighted in the feeling of being free and mobile and having been returned his own body, inhaling sharply and appreciating the smell of Stiles in the soft white cloth. He winced as his over-sensitive cock brushed against the fabric, the friction sending jabbing painful waves of pleasure through him, forcing him to turn around, and lying with his back on the material.

“Sorry, forgot to warn you,” Stiles said when he noticed Derek twisting quickly and looking down at his huge member, swollen and red. “Are you sure you don’t want me to just finish it quickly? It can get painful.”

“No.” He said, something inside of him wished he would be allowed to climax instantly, the sensation of being so far gone yet not _enough_ was driving him crazy with need, but another part of him wanted to give Stiles the pleasure he wanted to extract from Derek. He could observe how Stiles’ long slender member was flushed, unsatisfied as well.

Ten minutes later Derek found himself bound again, his hands handcuffed to the headboard of the metallic table a few feet away from where he previously stood, and his legs bound to latex straps on the same table, spread just enough.

The chilly coldness of the metal beneath him made him shiver a little, yet he quickly forgot about the coolness once Stiles straddled on top of him. He rocked back and forth, rubbing Derek’s cock between his pale ass cheeks and extracting loud stuttering moans from Derek.

Stiles then adjusted himself on top of it, and sank in one smooth, slow downward motion – wincing as the thick shaft filled his insides and spread him apart - from all his clients, Derek was the biggest (except perhaps Boyd.). Stiles was proud of his own eight inches, and he had taken several long ones before, his flexible structure allowing him the penetration, yet Derek was wide – very wide, his dick proportional to his body, flawless. He exhaled shakily as he bottomed out, he felt full beyond belief, even the slightest movement caused him to feel the intruding hugeness inside of him, made both himself and Derek tremble from the slightest nudge.

Riding Derek was his favorite part. He started thrusting up and down in long hard movements, at first just half the length, and then increasing the motion until Derek’s cock was almost all out, before slamming back down.

“Fuck. Derek.”

“Shit.”

“Stiles.”

The slamming bumping sound as he jerked up and down Derek’s shaft were only accompanied by their mutual swearing, cursing and increasingly rugged breathing.

The rhythm soon turned animalistic, movements turning blurry and wild and too rough for both of them. They went on for a couple of minutes before Stiles could see Derek’s chest a dark shade of red, his muscles rattling and breathing hitched; he removed the cock rings on both of them and gave a couple of hard thrusts before he felt Derek’s cock writhing inside of him, causing his entire body to shake in return, and Derek to gasp and release loud moans. He came all over Derek’s chest the moment he felt Derek’s cum coat his insides, Derek himself convulsing violently and rocking into him incessantly, shooting slurps of cum, one shot after the other until he emptied himself inside.

They lied there, a pile of limbs breathing exhaustedly on each other. Stiles then removed his handcuffs and got off the table, leaving Derek there, still trembling a little.

“Today was my last business day.” Stiles announced, and walked upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek lied on the table, his skin was wet and he was incredibly sweaty, the oil melting off his skin in copious amounts. He breathed slowly, trying to calm his muscles down.

No.

That was impossible.

Stiles… was going to stop. His mind was still too dazed to process it; the way Stiles dropped it nonchalantly hurt him in ways he didn’t want to admit. He felt so utterly used and battered, he hoped these were just the usual slight sub drop he experienced after these sessions, yet something inside of him warned him it wasn’t going to fade away anytime soon. He felt… almost angry at how Stiles did that.

A few minutes passed, and Stiles came down once again, lotions and towels in his arms.

“Thought you might be too tired to go upstairs’. I’ll clean you up here.” Stiles said, yet something in his voice was off, shifty. As the blurness faded Derek could see that Stiles’ eyes were a little sore, as if fatigued. The man approached him, wearing jeans and gloves.

“Stiles-“ Derek tried.

“Shh, we’ll… talk later. Just rest now.” He smiled at him, and Derek felt his insides ease in relief, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe –

A cool clothe was pressed onto his side and he tensed a little, and then calmed down.

“Is it too cold?”

Derek shook his head slightly.

“Okay, lay face down.” Derek twisted a little and did as asked, the sudden new vulnerability that rushed through him was brutal, accompanied with regret, guild and doubt. He just had to get through this bit.

“You don’t – You don’t do this to Jackson.” He commented as he felt Stiles’ clothed fingers ease onto his back.

“Every client is different, Derek. Jackson, is different.” There was something Derek couldn’t quite comprehend in Stiles’ tone. “In my profession, you learn every single thing a person needs from the smallest details. Besides,” He then adds, on a lighter tone. “Jackson is much more casual than you are, and his session was nowhere near as intense.”

“So he doesn’t need… you know… this?” Derek mumbles.

“Oh he does, usually. He usually needs much more sentimental things than this.” Stiles’ statement was calculated, careful not to give away things he doesn’t allow himself to tell about his other clients.

Something occurred to Derek, though. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but, when Jackson was sleeping on your bed-“

“That was one such, occasion. Sometimes a person needs to be pushed to their limit, and then treated with extreme gentleness.” Derek felt Stiles’ hands brush against sensitive spots and coat them with cream, his nimble fingers moved all over his body with a rhythm reminiscent to a graceful lithe dance.

“Sometimes a person needs to unload all the pent up feelings they have by simple physical contact; a hug, an embrace, even a simple kiss. And sometimes a person just needs to lie in another’s bed and sleep there, just to know that they can rely on a person.” Stiles finished with his back, and moves down to his ass and pelvis. The movements were unlike those in the play session, where they were rough, dirty and intruding; now they were technical, soft, soothing and kind - almost as if Derek could break if Stiles were to apply enough pressure.

“And sometimes, a person just needs to talk to another and be taken care of. Sometimes they just need to know that there’s a person out there, who values them.” Stiles’ fingers intruded him, and the new cold jell that entered his hole made him wince and gasp, his body stirring a little.

“Even if- it’s that- person’s duty? -A job? For -money?” Derek asked, facing the headboard in-front of him.

“I charge for providing pleasure, not comfort, Derek. That comes because I want to, I have no obligation to give it, yet believe it or not, this part is what I like most. This is what, in reality, people like Jackson come for, not the torture or the abuse on their body; but the feeling of being picked up after being broken.” Stiles’ voice is thick and heavy, full of things Derek feels ignorant in confront of.

“You haven’t been charging me for… anything.” He then said, somewhat shamefully.

“I do not lack money, Derek. Plus, I would feel guilty to demand money from you.” Stiles chuckled a little, and Derek felt offended.

“I don’t want to be a charity case.”

“The reason I do not charge you is not because you do not have much money, but because with you I feel like I’m taking as much as I’m giving. I do like your presence.” There’s a tense pause between the two of them, but Stiles simply moves down to his legs and messages his inner thighs.

 _More than I should._ It was on the tip of Stiles’ tongue, but he refrained himself in time. He was still shaken, even after all those times, at how easily his own control wavered with Derek.

“I like your presence too.” It came out as a quick mumble, but Stiles cought, and cought Derek’s thick sad tone too.

“Turn around.” Derek turned facing upwards, seeing Stiles above him like this made him flush involuntarily.

“Close your eyes.”

“Huh?” Derek’s brow furrowed, but then complied. He felt a soft clean cloth touching his left cheek, moving in subtle motions around his face, and then was replaced by coated fingers.

“You can open your eyes, creams’ gone.” Derek let his eyes remain close for a while longer, just reveling in the feeling of Stiles’ fingers on him, for one last time.

Derek felt Stiles’ hands move down and around his neck, messaging it slowly. Stiles then gor a wet cloth and splashed it on his belly, cleaning him off the remnants of cum and drying it with a soft towel. He then applied Jell on his chest and abs, and moved down to his crotch, thighs and finally feet.

“The shower’s water is heated, just come upstairs once you’re ready. I’ll be in the Kitchen, making some calls.” Stiles strolled upstairs, and Derek exhaled loudly before following.

Showering at Stiles felt as if he belonged there, it was fantastic; the feeling of relying on someone else, using someone else like this. Even if it was insignificant. He showered calmly and meticulously, letting himself touch his own body and just feel. He used Stiles’ shower jell and hair wash, and after a couple of minutes got out, brushed his hair and put the cleaned toothbrush he used earlier in its holder. His clothes were on the small chair lying underneath the sink, coupled with hair Jell and a large towel

Most of all, he liked being taking care of like this, with no ulterior motive.

Once ready he sauntered to the Kitchen, where Stiles was busy talking to someone. A sudden strangeness settled low in his stomach.

“Scott! I do not mind Allison tagging along, but are you seriously bringing Lydia? You know how it is between me and her!”

There was a pause, and Stiles looked as if he was fuming.

“Okay! How dare you! We’ve talked about this, I’m going to take some time and figure –“

“Fine, okay, fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Derek made an effort to not eavesdrop on the conversation, although he could hear the voice on the other line perfectly. He wondered if he could ask if everything was all-right, yet he simply remained still in the corridor, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

Stiles hanged up. “Sorry, that was urm – my friend, living to make my life miserable. Apparently that’s ‘what friends are for.’” Stiles quoted the last part, pouting.

“Urm sit down, I’ll make some tea.”

Derek smiled and moved – a little clumsily – to sit on the chair closest to him. The Kitchen, like the living room, was Valedictorian style, everything was oak and expensive yet cozy, the curtains were dark red and the tiles were a faded white

“So ugh-“He struggled to find his words, looking down at his cup as if it personally offended him. Stiles moved from where the telephone – adjacent to the sink – and took a seat around the table.

“You’re not going to do… this anymore?” He asked, finally getting the words out.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Derek tried, and he could hardly breathe.

“It’s just. It’s time, you know. I want to maybe settle down, find someone who wouldn’t run away from me the second he gets to know anything about me.” He chuckled a little, yet it was sad.

_I wouldn’t._

Derek wanted to stay, but bit his lip in frustration instead, nodding slowly as Stiles talked.

“I’m sorry for it being so sudden on you. If you want I can give you a couple of good numbers.” Stiles flailed around, gesturing wildly.

“No. I mean, no thanks.” Derek glanced sideways, embarrassed. “I- I-… What are the other’s going to do?”

“Well, they weren’t very happy, but I’ve been helping Isaac with someone and Boyd was graceful and understanding as ever about it. I think Jackson will go to a close buddy of mine. Chris Argent offered me _a lot_ of money, but backed off finally when I insisted it wasn’t about that.” Stiles looked around, finally glancing up at Derek.

Derek felt his heart sink, it kept sinking and falling lower as if anchored down by a heavy black mass. A boulder of hollowness settled on his stomach and his throat felt dry and sore and everything _ached_. He swallowed a lump down, and something remained metaphysically blocked in his air pipe, making breathing hard.

“Well… good luck. I guess.” He stared down to his cup. It was okay, he had to predict that this will happen. He should have – he couldn’t possible assume he could rely on Stiles forever. It was just a temporary solution, he’d find something else and he wouldn’t feel miserable for too long – he’d forget soon enough.

“We can still meet… if you want. Maybe not do this kind of stuff, but maybe… you know hang out.” Stiles glanced around, his hand rubbing the back off his head.

“Yeah. Okay. If you want that, I’d. It’d be nice.” That would. That would suffice until he found something. Could he really be there when Stiles told him he’d found someone?

“That’d be awesome!”

“Stiles,” Derek clenched his jaw and breathed before continuing. “I mean, would you – would you?” He exhaled, feeling oddly defeated and humiliated. “Maybe, we could hang out. Like, date.” It came out fast and half a mumble and it was the absolute worse he could have done.

“Derek,” Stiles sighed. “You’re not attracted to me. You think you are, but you’re not. You’re not attracted to me as a person but to my skills and how the sessions make you feel. But it’s just a rush of endorphins…” His shoulders slumped a little, somewhat sad. “Once you find a new activity, or a person, you’ll realize how I’m right.”

“I’m going upstairs to take a bath, you can stay here if you want, maybe watch a movie or something. I won’t take too long.” Stiles left as fast as he could, not wanting to continue babbling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek/ Deucalion (http://24.media.tumblr.com/c5b7af6c79b91faee63beaa68370b7c4/tumblr_mh95mmcniM1rbl1aio1_500.png)  
> Stiles/ Scott
> 
> Warning: Cheating in a Relationship and other highly questionable stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep a fair line between Porn and Plot.

It was humiliating. Derek was crouched down, face above the toilet, panting breathlessly and hoping he didn’t have anything else to throw up.

He felt ill, a metallic sense of nausea threatening to force whatever was left inside of him to come out. One would think even his own body is disgusted by how low he sunk.

Who the fuck could blame him.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He cursed, gritting his teeth in frustration.

“Derek?” The man hung by the door of the bathroom, brows furrowed.

“Sorry. Give me a minute.” Derek knew how pathetic that sounded, but all he really wanted was to get out of here. He wanted to get out of there, as quickly as possible.

He put some water in his mouth and spit it right out, cleaning his mouth a little from the horrible taste of vomit. Deucalion was in the studio, wrapping things up. Derek moved out of the bathroom and met the maJun’s gaze. Deucalion was handsome, big and dominative; Derek thought he’d like him, out of the many numbers he tried – apparently he hoped for too much.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, his expression was stern, yet torn.

“Man, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. You’re not the only one who thinks they like this stuff and then figure out they don’t. It’s all about experimenting.” Deucalion’s thick voice is fair, soothingly calm and nonchalant; it eases Derek a little.

“Actually. I did it before… with someone else. Just one.” He glanced around, uncomfortable.

Deucalion smirked a little, amused. “You’re saying I wasn’t good? I thought I have a pretty good reput-“

“No! No. You’re good, really good. Just.” Derek clenched his mouth again, unable to find the right words.

“Maybe what you need is something only he can give you.” Deucalion laughed a little, and then patted him on the back amiably before writing something down on a paper on the desk behind him.

*

Deucalion tied Derek’s hands and legs to different hooks, spreading Derek wide, stretching his muscles to their limit. The way Derek twitched underneath him made him gawk, the boy was firm and hot, ridiculously hot. Deucalion ran his hands over Derek’s ass cheeks, and then slapped them a couple of times, loving the way they bounced slightly, rippled in vibrating waves. He sank down on his knees and, with his hands, he spread Derek’s cheeks even further apart to get a full view of his pink, tight puckered hole. He plunged his tongue deep into Derek’s entrance, fucking in and out and rolling his tongue to make the younger man moan in ecstasy.

Derek bit his lip, suppressing a growl, as he felt Deucalion pressing his tongue deeper.

“Fuck.” He moaned at the electrifying constant pulsating sensation drifting into his body each time Deucalion penetrated him.

After some minutes, Deucalion pressed a finger in, plucking it in and out constantly, until Derek was bulking in and out.

He grabbed the metallic black beads, which were attached on a string, one larger than the other, and started pushing one by one.

By the fourth one, he suddenly realized Derek was no longer hard, and instead the man underneath him was heaving. As if in shock.

*

 

Laura arrived a month after he and Stiles last talked, which was when they had their final session. Derek couldn’t stop thinking about him. Stiles filled his thoughts morning and day, everything about the man fascinated him, and no matter how much he tried to forget about him, the more he found it futile. He knew that probably Stiles was whoring around right now, partying endlessly – Derek completely forgotten. The thought on its own made him stab at the granite of his Kitchen. He went to Deucalion the previous week, and he shivered at the very memory.

Laura returning was unexpected, but she finished her studies and semester and could spend a few weeks with him. She looked…. Different than before, as If something about her grew and she bloomed into a responsible woman. It made him sick that he was such a failure in comparison to her. It was always like that, she was the strong, and he was the weak – the pathetic guy always looming in the shadows; other’s shadows. Never moving forward on his own, not without collapsing, or ruining everyone around him.

He wondered how everything could keep falling apart in such a way. Over and over again. It didn’t seem far, noir did it seem natural. Was his destiny so tightly bound to be full of shit?

“Derek, if you want crappy things to stop happening to you. Stop accepting crap.” She said like it's easy and obvious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He half mumbled, half chewed around the burger. They were at a cheap take-away shop in the town’s plaza, he had no intention of going out of the house, much less to go shopping – but one thing about Laura didn’t change, and it was her stubbornness.

He didn’t get it, but someone she looked at him and no longer hated him, her eyes were softer – kinder. More like the sister he used to know before – before the fire.

“You deserve someone special Derek, stop your gloom and doom and breathe and enjoy things.” She took a mouthful of ice-cream (large, all flavored - the ice-cream man gawked at her.) and luxuriously enjoyed it, chewing on it precariously, until it dissolved.

“Whatever.” He dipped his head low, in the first week that Laura returned he was confused and shifty, uncomprehending of her intentions and anew demeanor. Now he guessed she changed, got over it, understood him – something, whatever it was that changed, he knew that at-least one thing was worth sticking around for.

She stared at him for a while, and then narrowed her eyes.

“Everything just… fell apart. Again.” He looked sideways, trying to dodge her penetrating gaze.

“So?”

He looked at her incredulously, and then she sighed.

“Derek, just because something falls apart, that doesn’t mean it is broken. Sometimes it’s just changing.”

He snorted. “Since when did you become so philosophical?”

“I have no idea. It sickens me really, being a good person is annoying,” Derek quivers an eyebrow. “But, there’s this guy, Deaton, he’s my psychology tutor and he’s really cool. We’ve been hanging out and stuff.”

“How old is he?” He tried to keep the possessiveness in his tone at bay.

“God Derek! Eww! He’s like two hundred, okay actually he’s good looking but no.” She shuddered dramatically, and dipped her head for another whip of vanilla.

“Anyways… he… he’s been helping me figure out some stuff. See things.” Laura shifted uncomfortably, as if avoiding Derek.

“He seems like a good guy.” He said.

“He is.” She replied, nodding, a little smile on her face.

“So what happens, once it changes, does it get better? Or worse?” He asked finally, and her face lit up.

“That dear bro, is the part that always depends on you and those around you. If you want to pick yourself up, make sure you’re surrounded by the good stuff, not crappy stuff. So throw away the crappy stuff and accept just brilliant stuff, like me.”

“Your logic astounds me.” He deadpanned, and then they laughed.

*

He was riding Scott with a blinding pace, skin flapping against skin so fast the sounds became indistinguishable. Scott was panting heavily.

“Fuck. Stiles. God. Oh Shit. Oh fuck” The litany of words that came out of his mouth didn’t end. It didn’t feel weird to have sex with Scott, even if Allison, his girlfriend, and Lydia were going to return home from shopping for thanksgiving soon; he thought they’d stop with Allison. That’s what they were supposed to do, only apparently, neither of them were as noble as they wanted to believe.

“Fuck Scott. Buckle up. Fuck.” Scott was lazy, and not that Stiles complained, he was more than happy to fall up and down on his best mate’s eight incher, but it was a shore and they’d been going at this pace for the past twenty minutes. Scott already came inside of him, he could feel the cum smeared all over his insides, slushing out a little before swarming around Scott’s cock each time he slammed down and up.

Scott slammed up against him, meeting his own descent, and that earned a loud moan from him; he thought his prostate would rupture from the intense stabbing pleasure that spiked through him. Taking his breath away. He loved fucking with Scott, it was easy, amiable, and most of all Scott’s cock reminded him of Derek. Not as long as the mans, but definitely as wide. Not that he ever dreamt of having the two men at the same time, obviously not, that would be wrong.

He’d do wrong plenty, in several different ways, and several different positions.

He wondered how Derek was doing, he had wanted to keep some sort of connection with him, it was foolish of course, and it was bound to fail – yet. Fuck. Why did he have to crush on a client just when he finally was about to stop?

Scott was being noble, really fucking noble, never just pinning Stiles against the wall and fuck him in a fury, or beg him for a quick ride or a blowjob (he never had to beg, didn’t mean Stiles stopped him.) But Stiles knew how to get Scott riled up easily, all he had to do was twitch a little suggestively and wink once or twice and he had Scott for himself to play with. It was a little evil, he should’ve been helping Scott keep his own end of the bargain, which was that of no friends with benefits sex with Stiles or Isaac. He only failed once with Isaac, and it was just a blow job Isaac gave him, with Stiles, it was a little more… radical.

Scott kept slamming into him relentlessly, almost gunning to rip him apart, Stiles tried to adjust himself but Scott quickly grasped his hips and slammed him, making his eyes bulge and everything to blur for a moment. Scott rolled his eyes.

“W- what?” He demanded.

“You keep saying his name.” He slowed down a little, leaving Stiles to ride him.

“Fuck. Seriously?”

“Yea. You’re hopeless, dude.”

Stiles gave him his best glare. “Look who’s talking.”

“Sorry. But why don’t you call him dude? He asked you out on a date! Isn’t that what you want or something?”

Stiles sat bottomed out on him, the thick cock filled him up and lied heavily on his prostate, sending continuous spasms inside his body. Scott lied underneath him with his hands crossed beneath his head, expectant.

“Not with a client. He doesn’t like me. I mean, have you seen the guy? Yes, you have. You watched the tape, and you jerked off and wanted him like a dog in heat.” Scott gives him an upset look, and twitched his cock to make Stiles moan. “He only wanted to go out with me because he was shocked and stuff. You know how it works. Loving the action, not the person and stuff. It wouldn’t have worked, just heart break. And I don’t do that.”

“Are you going to make me cum a second time or…?”

“Fucker.” Stiles rose up a little, and Scott grinned.

He did ride out Scott’s second orgasm.

He was skull-fucking Scott, and that was the second favorite thing he liked doing with the guy, first being riding. It felt like feeding Scott’s desire to suck cock, preposterously amazing. Scott was more dominative than anything, but when it came to Stiles’ cock, well whatever it was, Stiles didn’t complain.

He pulled out for a second, allowing Scott to catch his breath. His cock was smudged with pre-cum and saliva, as was Scott’s mouth and chin.

“That’s what you get for being so damn rough.” He rubbed his cock against Scott’s face, who was kneeling in-front of him, arms handcuffed around his waist, forcing Stiles’ member against his face.

“That’s how you love it.” Scott smiled, a little devious, as always.

“Fucker.” Smiles couldn’t help but smile back, he did still love dominating, and this was a lovely refill that he missed since he stopped accepting client. “Lower your head.”

“Fuck man, not my hair. Allison will know.” Still, he dipped his head low, allowing Stiles’ cock to brush against his hair.

“Good. She’ll know what a cocksucker her boyfriend is. Maybe I should record it, what do you think, Scott? He rubbed his member through Scott’s black hair, enjoying the delightful ticklish feeling, loving how the pre-cum blended in and made a mess of Scott’s hair. He came after a couple of minutes, He pulled out of Scott’s mouth to give him a breath, worked himself to his orgasm, and pushed back until he felt his cock sliding down Scott’s throat, wrapped an arm around Scott’s neck to feel his own cock pulsating inside. Scott gagged and struggled, but Stiles kept him still, forcing him to take it all down. He then felt Scott’s come on his legs, realizing Scott came undone – as happened many times with this particular activity. Stiles shot nine long stripes, spraying the last two over Scott’s head, coating his eyes and cheeks white. Scott fell to the ground, exhausted and raw from the abuse, still seeing everything contorting from the lack of oxygen. Stiles used his hand to wipe off Scott’s cum from his cock and his own legs, there were a good worth of four thick shots of cum, and only not as much as Stiles's because he already came twice. He fantasized briefly how it would feel to be coated in both Derek’s and Scott’s cum at once. He’d probably drown. He rubbed the cum over Scott's face and hair, and then dipped his finger into Scott's mouth to be licked clean.

*

They lied on the bed, both panting heavily, Scott was stroking his cock lightly, in a lazy high kind of way. He turned a little towards Stiles, and rubbed against him a little.

“So what are you going to do?” Scott asked as he looked up to him.

“About?” Scott’s head was buried in Stiles’ arms, whose fingers were running light circles onto his back.

“Derek.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on man. You have to take risks. That’s what relationships are what about.” He gave a hard upward thrust against Stiles’ side, and moaned a little.

“You’re the expert?” Stiles quivered an eyebrow.

“I’m trying here dude.” 

“Sorry. Just… man… I don’t know. Okay? I really don’t know.

**Author's Note:**

> So... What do you guys think?


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